Galian and his Kilt
by Jebus Creiss
Summary: Valentine's Day: Vincent is rather annoyed, Yuffie's feeling amorous and tricksome, and Galian is highly amused...and bored. Surely this cannot end well... Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Galian and his Kilt**

—**ox-oxo-xo—**

**Summary:** Valentine's Day: Vincent is rather annoyed, Yuffie is feeling amorous, and Galian is highly amused…and bored. Surely this cannot end well…

**Timeline:** Aerith is alive, and Vincent/Yuffie/Cid are with them, so…

**Warnings:** Yuffie, Cid, Barret, etc. Also, screaming and running away – or rather, that which _causes_ the screaming and running away. (Did you see the title?) Consider yourselves warned.

**Rating:** **T**, though I may be erring on the optimistic side…

**Disclaimer:** Final Fantasy VII is the property of Squaresoft/Square Enix. Which is not me.

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Ignorance**

Vincent Valentine found himself becoming suspicious. At least, more than usually suspicious.

Not of his surroundings – some forest, somewhere near Wutai; not of the likelihood of interruptions by local wildlife – frequent and moderately challenging, just the way he liked it; certainly not of his motives – kill Hojo and then wander back to Shinra Manor and his coffin, where he could finally get some decent sleep. (After all, one gets _used_ to sleeping in a quiet, enclosed space after thirty years – which, after several weeks of _not_ sleeping in a quiet, enclosed space, may have contributed to his general mood… which could be best described as, well, 'suspicious'.)

No; he was becoming suspicious of his travelling companions. And not for the usual reasons, either. Vincent tended to find his new-found 'comrades' difficult to rely upon at the best of times. (After all, there was the brain-addled fool who had somehow been saddled with the title of 'leader', probably because he carried the biggest set of steak knives. Then there was the woman who kept trying to sell him flowers for no apparent reason. Then there was the loudmouthed, short-tempered leader of a band of eco-terrorists…complete with big-breasted groupie. He tended to distrust anyone with double-D-cups, both due to his Turk training and just on general principle… Then there was the scruffy drunkard who thought _he_ was the leader. Then there was the kleptomaniac princess who hadn't told anyone she _was_ a princess. Then there was the robot with the ridiculous accent – who had actually _betrayed_ them all, and for some reason had _still_ not been dismantled and sold for the scrap. Then there was…)

His internal tirade ground to a halt for a moment. Come to think of it, he didn't actually have a problem with Nanaki. At least he was actually intelligent, if a little young and naïve. And in any case, he was running in the rearguard position, behind the party's main body; as such, he was exempt until proven culpable.

_…Ahem._ He made a mental note to talk more often with his quadrupedal comrade, and so attempt to purge as painlessly as possible the quota-backlog of conversation that he'd missed for the past thirty years.

No; the _reason_ he was becoming suspicious was because they were whispering behind his back. And _laughing_.

The women – all three of them! – had been following close to Cloud, flirting with the bumbling idiot in a fashion which only said bumbling idiot could possibly manage to ignore. (Then again, he conceded, Vincent and Nanaki were likely the only members of the party who could _smell_ the way the trio became aroused when they approached the ex-SOLDIER...) Of course, their preoccupation had set the other men chuckling.

Then one of the louder men had said 'Valentine', in a distinctly _insinuating_ tone which he probably wasn't meant to hear, and likely _wouldn't_ have heard if not for the superior aural abilities which had led to his assignation as the party's forward scout in the first place.

Some silence. And then they'd started giggling. And they hadn't stopped for several minutes now.

Vincent turned round, tattered crimson cape flaring out with his abrupt spin, stopping to regard the party behind him. They froze, several of them reaching for their weapons and darting quick looks around them; he tended not to talk to most of them unless those same enhanced senses picked up an approaching encounter.

"…What?"

Those who hadn't initially limbered up to fight thought it best to look elsewhere. Those who _had_ limbered up to fight darted surprised looks at him, before remembering _why_ the others were looking elsewhere. Needless to say, they were instantly back to their intensive examination of their surroundings, provided those surroundings were nowhere near the person (loosely speaking) of Vincent Valentine.

He narrowed his eyes a little. They began to shift their feet.

Being the resident rebellious kleptomaniac princess, Yuffie was the first to realise that she was acting exactly like the others, and decide to do something completely different in an effort to be contrary. She looked at him.

"N-Nothing! Nyuk-nyu—" Then Yuffie suddenly remembered _why_ she'd been doing the same thing as everyone else, and returned to following suit.

Vincent turned back around and continued his point-scouting duties. _At least,_ he reflected as the party hesitantly resumed their movement, _they've stopped laughing…_

—ox-oxo-xo—

Yuffie Kisaragi was actually feeling a little despondent. Not that anyone realised – Leviathan forbid! (After all, in addition to being a super awesome ninja, she boasted some super awesome acting skills. How else could a Wutain princess pass herself off as a vagabond ninja?) Taking advantage of a rare opportunity to indulge moderately in a spot of honesty, she picked listlessly at her lunch…which could be forgiven given that it had been Cloud's turn to cook it. Could the guy do _nothing_ but shove a haunch of monster-meat onto a spit? Had Chocobo-Head never even _heard_ of seasoning?

Truth to tell, she was actually a little pissed at Cloud. Mainly because, in between obliviously lapping up the pre-Valentine's Day jockeying for affection offered him by Aerith and Tifa, he had somehow managed to _completely_ ignore her own gorgeous self. Probably he was just a boobs-man. Typical guy…

A little of it, though, was the fact that he was the leader. And in a few days, she was set to betray him. And, as a rule, she _didn't_ get guilty. No, instead she scrabbled for grievances to blame _them_ for – a pre-emptive strike, as it were. (Was it _her_ fault he'd led them towards her homeland? Was it _her_ fault he'd ignored her and taken someone else on that date? Was it _her_ fault they never paid any attention to her, or even let her keep any materia?) It made life as a ninja a lot easier.

With a determination and expertise born of years of experience, Yuffie snapped herself out of her threatening funk by the simple expedient of cataloguing the many annoying (and therefore blameworthy) traits of the eight people who would soon be her victims.

Cloud, the way-too-bishie chocobo-head with the titty-fixation who ignored her and couldn't cook a decent meal to save his life, stood to lose a bunch of items along with his materia. Tifa's boobs would _seriously_ cost her. Aerith… annoyingly, she just couldn't bring herself to hate her guts like she no doubt deserved. _Okay, she can keep her items…_

Barret and Cid – well, she hated them almost by reflex. Come on, they called her a _brat!_ Like, _constantly!_ There was no way she could forgive that! (And besides, how could she have any respect for a guy who'd apparently let his daughter get kidnapped _twice?_) _Although…_ At least they'd taught her a few new swear-words. All right, she might let them keep their _shirts_ – if she was feeling generous…

Cait Sith? Well, maybe she could actually _steal_ Cait Sith! _Somebody_ in Wutai had to be savvy when it came to electronics – maybe they could pump the annoying little robot for information. Or even get it to spy on Shinra for them! And if not, Yuffie figured that she could at least flog him for the scrap. Red? …Well, it wasn't as if he had much stuff to nick anyway. No doubt he'd insulted her _some_ time or other; she could work out when after she'd separated him from his materia and made good her escape. And Vincent—

She darted a glance over at the taciturn gunslinger, leaning silently against a tree at the edge of the campsite. Having eschewed Cloud's dubious cooking, his attention remained directed on the forest surrounding the clearing.

_Well…_ She scrabbled for reasons to hate him.

_…He ignores me too!_ But, well… he ignored everyone else – and he ignored _her_ just like he ignored everyone else, not like she was some little kid. _…He's a vampire! And vampires DESERVE to have their stuff nicked!_ But, well… everyone _knew_ vampires went for the pretty ones first, and he hadn't even so much as looked at her neck. (_Or anyone else's_, a traitorous corner of her mind whispered encouragingly.) _…He keeps banging on about his precious 'beautiful Lucrecia…'!_ But, well… he'd actually only mentioned it that one time, and—

That same mindborne traitor undertook at that point to bring to her attention the potentially embarrassing nature of her previous lines of inquiry…as well as the belated reminder that her 'darting glance' had in fact not shifted from Vincent's red-cloaked form for well over a minute.

_Aw crap._ She scrabbled for a new line of enquiry.

Aha! _That raggedy-ass red cloak! That smelly, filthy cloak that's never been washed and it's probably dyed with monster guts and when he moves it flaps round like he's a male model and—_ This time she was paying rather _closer_ attention, and decided to quit while she was ahead. Which she was…just.

And then the internal seditionist which in kinder times she would have been more inclined to admit was her libido butted into her busy justifications _yet again_. But, well… _Come on, that's a lousy reason! You know you love that cloak anyway!_

At which point, for differing reasons, a thought occurred to both the diminutive ninja _and_ her rebellious libido. Both sets of reasoning set her bounding over to lean next to the gunslinger.

"So, Vinnie… What are you gonna gimme tomorrow?"

Well, at least she got a reaction. Vincent blinked, his line of sight adjusting in order to better deliver a puzzled query in the direction of the Single White Rose of Wutai.

"Aw, come on Vince! Today's the thirteenth! You know what that means, right?" It must've been her libido that tacked on that suggestive note at the end. The Single White Rose of Wutai wouldn't _ever_ have done that.

If anything, that garnet gaze managed to dredge up an _additional_ measure of 'what-the-hell?' from somewhere. "…It's October?"

"No! It's February, the thirteenth of February!" Clueless! She was almost convinced right then and there to pinch all his stuff when she vamoosed. But, well… _…Okay, so he's an idiot – that didn't stop you from going after Cloud, now did it? And since when did he show that much expression for, like, ANYBODY? C'mon, keep at it!_

That bemused expression was still pasted on his face. "…So…?"

"So tomorrow's Valentine's Day, you doofus! And you owe me a PRESENT, Mister Valentine!" He blinked again. She struggled valiantly. "So what're you gonna get me? Materia? 'Cause I like materia!"

The look Vincent shot at her before storming off left her feeling like she'd been smacked in the solar plexus with a Tiny spell. She even caught herself checking the tree she was leaning on, just to make sure that it – and therefore _she_ – remained in its proper proportions.

"_…Bastard."_ Yuffie's whispered epithet practically curdled the air with a bitterness which surprised even the _kunoichi_. Even her libido shut up for a moment, knowing a lost cause when it was slapped in the face with one… before _finally_ offering a suggestion that was useful to her.

—ox-oxo-xo—

_She can't know – I haven't told her – haven't told anyone – it must have been some misunderstanding – she __**can't**__ know…_ Vincent frantically attempted to rein in his temper, thankful that the others appeared to have finished their meal and he could therefore take his place at the head of the party instead of being forced to interact with anyone.

After thirty years without any particular requirement to count the days, it was unsurprising that Vincent had forgotten what day it was tomorrow. Not that it had mattered in the years before his coffin, and his penance. Until that moment, he had somehow managed for _the entire day_ to avoid dwelling upon his sins…

The shrivelled remains of his heart, already cringing with shame over its abruptly remembered burden, inexplicably dropped into his burnished boots upon hearing Yuffie's quiet, miserable, _"…Bastard._"

It simply hadn't occurred to him, he realised with a jolt, to consider the possibility that she could have been entirely serious when she'd been nattering on about the present he apparently 'owed' her. It was perhaps thankful that, after thirty years, the majority of his facial muscles had forgotten that they must actually _move_ in order to convey expressions; otherwise, the look that would have twisted his features at that moment might have raised several embarrassing questions, none of which he had any intention of answering…

It took a little while, but he finally managed to convince himself to calm down (and perhaps ask Nanaki about this whole 'Valentine's Day' business when the party set camp tonight). And as for Yuffie… well, suffice to say that, unlike Cloud, he was entirely capable of hypothesising the likely actions of a fifteen-year-old kleptomaniac _kunoichi_ who claimed the name of the Wutain royal family, especially given the empire's recent fall from grace, when nearing her ancestral homeland. (The Wutain Princess should perhaps have been paying less attention to Cloud's girlish features and more to hiding her intentions, especially when complaining about her country's many problems to the sort of man who would let her twitter on because he never actually _bothered_ to tell people to shut up…) No doubt she would depart in a few days. It was likely that they would _all_ be missing a large proportion of their materia when she left. No damage done – or at least, he hastened to assure himself, no more damage than that which they would almost inevitably incur soon enough.

Vincent's nose suddenly twitched, seemingly of its own volition.

It occurred to him, then, that he _knew_ that smell. The one which had lingered over that entire one-sided conversational sally. The one which wafted into his ever-so-slightly quivering nostrils even now. It also occurred to him that he had never before been able to tell _which_ of the women were aroused.

This, he conceded as he set out on point, could well get a little more painful than he had initially predicted…

…Why was the Galian Beast...laughing?

* * *

A/N: Soooo… (Justify, justify…) So, I was hammering away at 'The Griever', a long and reasonably angsty FFVIII fic. (Oh, and if by some staggering coincidence you happen to be waiting for me to update 'The Griever', I'm sitting on most of it in preparation for the next proofreading – it's be out within the week…) And then I realised that I should take a crack at writing a multi-chaptered fic to a strict timetable – you know, just for the practice. And I'd never done a holiday fic either – so, two birds with one stone…

So, upshot: this fic'll be three chapters – the second update tomorrow, and the final update on Valentine's Day proper. Cheers!

(Oh, and if you'd be so kind as to click on those lil' blue words and review, it'd be highly appreciated…)


	2. Chapter 2

...Yikes. I must've been drunker last night than I thought... This 'un won't be quite as...shall I say, _poetic_ as the previous, but I've tried to get it close. One of these days, I'll probably try to clean it all up.

* * *

**Chapter 2 - Fury**

…And now they were laughing again…and _glaring_. For Vincent Valentine, it was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling.

Several factors contributed to his current emotional state. The forest had, for over an hour now, completely and obstinately refused to present him with something to fill with bullets. Deprived of a non-'comrade'-ly target on which to unleash his only slightly diffused anger, he was reluctantly forced to keep himself restrained – which in turn only served to frustrate Galian. In addition, the shreds of his heart had yet to struggle their way out of his boots, firmly caged therein by the constantly renewed weight of his sins.

At least he _had_ calmed a little, if for no other reason than that he had taken a great deal of effort _not_ to dwell on the reason for his anger. Several times that afternoon it had occurred to him, very briefly, that the kleptomaniac's 'Valentine's Day' faux par was highly, _highly_ unlikely to have been simply a bizarre misunderstanding...but that would cause the rage to rise anew, and so he would then be forced to scramble to excise that entire episode from his train of thought. Currently, however, he had no choice but to keep at least a small part of it at the forefront of his mind – to remind himself that, no matter that Yuffie was the cause of their present insulting behaviour, she _appeared_ at least to be fully justified in her petulant actions. (He was perfectly aware that she was in the wrong, however scarcely she might be cognizant of that inconvenient fact. But such actions were not conducive to the exercise of attempting to restrain himself from inflicting penetrative trauma upon the Princess of Wutai, and so he did not dwell on _that_ either.)

…And now Galian was laughing at him again. He wondered why.

Unlike the morning's trek, in which the party had travelled in four distinct groups (himself on point, the women orbiting Cloud, the other men and the mechanical spydoll trailing behind, and Nanaki on rearguard), this afternoon's journey had begun in five. Tifa and Aerith had soon noticed that Yuffie was keeping her distance from the others, and subsequently unpeeled themselves away from the leader for long enough to inquire as to her reason for this unusual behaviour. Evidently the volume of their enquiry – and the ninja's response – had not been pitched low enough to avoid the others' attention… and Yuffie's efforts to speak with Vincent during that lunchbreak had sadly not gone unnoticed. And so the women began glaring while trying not to giggle (after all, it was no doubt so '_cuuute!_'), and the men began guffawing while trying to glare (after all, he was upwards of three times her age – but it was still so damned '_cuuute!_'), and this time Vincent could not even turn round and inquire for fear of attempting to kill them—

O praise of all things holy, he could hear a monster ahead. (Galian growled with happy anticipation – even if he wasn't brought forth, he could still enjoy watching…) Even better, it was coming straight for them. And then something occurred to him.

It may have surprised the others to know that Vincent _did_, in fact, possess a sense of humour. Thirty years in a coffin might have caused it to atrophy more than somewhat, and Galian's presence might have painted it a little darker than the norm; nevertheless, he was not about to let such a golden opportunity slip through his shiny metal grasp.

He turned round, tattered crimson cloak flaring out with his abrupt spin, stopping to regard the party behind him…for the second time today. _This_ time, though, he utilised the cape's billlowing action to bare his right hand to their view as it nonchalantly came to rest upon the handle of his hostered pistol. Not _one_ of them, he was simultaneously amused and disappointed to witness, attempted to prepare themselves for a fight. They did, however, resume that morning's 'look-around-innocently-while-scuffing-feet' routine. (Well, most of them. Tifa and Aerith kept glaring, if only at their surroundings as opposed to at _him_, and Yuffie actually retained the gumption to poke her tongue out at him.)

The gunslinger narrowed his eyes again, given that it had worked so well earlier…taking care to coincide that facial movement with the withdrawal of his Peacemaker from its hip holster. At which point six cranial sets of orbs widened and five snapped round to stare at him (Yuffie's being on said gunslinger already, and…well, with Cait Sith it was difficult to tell). _Most_ satisfactory.

He had not counted it fortunate until now that three decades of disuse had crumbled his vocal chords to dust. Right at that moment, however, he could at least be thankful that it exponentially accentuated his utter lack of expression.

"…We have incoming."

Vincent turned back around and made a purposeful beeline for the approaching pack of monsters. As he heard the party behind him cursing and scrabbling for their weapons as they should have been doing the moment he stopped, he made a mental note to avoid Tifa's cooking that night. While her culinary skills were superlative (at least when compared with Cloud's), the double-breasted groupie could be vindictive when she was peeved.

—ox-oxo-xo—

Yuffie Kisaragi was still right and royally _pissed_ at Vincent. That was why she'd spent the entire night thus far (not that long yet, only half-an-hour since the camp had been set up – but she could keep it up for as long as she wanted! even with her mouth full of Tifa's spicy monster stew!) following the Vampire around. So she could keep glaring at him. That was _all_. Well, until he was asleep… nyuk, nyuk, nyuk…

The gunslinger had found another tree to lean against, again a fair distance from the others round the fire. Most unusually, he had chosen not to partake of Tifa's cooking. But why? he _liked_ her cooking, or at least he ate it… "Huh…" she muttered under her breath, "does Vampy think Boobs is gonna…poison him…?" The ninja found the idea of him missing out on a meal for such a stupid reason so funny that she couldn't help but indulge hersefl in a quick giggle;, completely missing the way that Vincent stiffened when she called him 'Vampy'. Besides, Tifa just said that as a joke, in her lame-o way… _Wait up…did Vinnie __**hear**__ that?_

She winced, quickly recovering and intensifying her glare for good measure. _Of course he heard that…_ (That realisation necessitated a quick once-over of everything she'd muttered which he wasn't supposed to hear…phew, nothing incriminating.) Oh well, maybe she could eat the Vampire's share.

Thanks to her super awesome body-language-reading skills (all part of the super awesome ninja package), she totally caught that dirty come-over-here look Vince was giving Red. She must be making him nervous! Take _that_, you creepy old bloodsucking vampire pervert! Red XIII, stretched out before the campfire, came to his feet and slinked over to them, giving Yuffie a slightly puzzled look; she gave him a little smile before continuing her pre-Valentine's Day Glarefest. _Thanks, Red! I just __**knew**__ you'd insult me sooner or later – now I can pinch all your stuff like I was planning on doing anyway!_

The Vampire's eyes flashed ruby in the firelight for a moment as he looked over at her. She just glared harder. After a couple of seconds, he shrugged and turned away, looking down at Red. "…Nanaki."

"Yes, Vincent?"

"Do you…know what 'Valentine's Day' is?" _…Did Vincent just say that?_ She absently wiggled a finger around in one of her ears...well, Red was answering, he must've said it...

"I do not know that much about it, actually. We don't celebrate that holiday in Cosmo Canyon." Vincent raised an eyebrow, inviting him to explain. "My grandfather mentioned it once, perhaps…ten years ago? A few visitors to the canyon were celebrating it… I remember Grandfather saying that Shinra introduced the holiday." Red's furred withers twitched for a moment, a mannerism which Yuffie gathered was his equivalent of a shrug. "I am sorry, Vincent. That is all I know for certain." And he slinked back to his place at the campfire, Yuffie breathing a really, _really_ quiet sigh of relief at watching him go. It had just occurred to her that if Vincent Valentine really didn't know what Valentine's Day was, she was far from sure she wanted to be _anywhere_ nearby when it was explained to him…which would be irksome, because she was determined to keep up her glaring and it just wouldn't be the same if she wasn't doing it right in his face so he couldn't ignore it.

_Oh, right._ She quickly put the glare back on, wondering if Vinnie had somehow had a Stop spell or something slapped on him.

"_Shinra…_" _Nope, not a Stop spell…_ His voice had gone really _growly_ just then…well, fair enough, anyone with half-a-brain hated Shinra. Vincent straightened, closing his eyes for a few moments. Then he looked at her, like he was thinking of something deep. She absently stomped on her libido until it stopped gibbering, wondering what he was up to… Strangely, he ghosted away _toward_ the campfire. (She followed him, of course, the better to keep glaring at him.) His filthy gore-soaked cloak floated round him as he came to a halt, staring down at the seven other soon-to-be-suckers sitting and drinking tea round the campfire. (Hey, why didn't they offer _her_ any?)

"…Barret."

"Yo, what the fuck? Yo talkin' to me?"

"…Nanaki did not know. What is 'Valentine's Day'?" Now if only she had a camera, she could've take a picture of that. It had looked like a fountain or something, just for a moment…

Cid, a man who valued his tea almost as much as Godo valued his _mai tai_, was one of the few who didn't have to spend precious seconds mopping up sprayed tea before he could focus on opening his mouth. "Goddamn it Vince, you don't know 'bout the holiday that's fuckin' _named_ after you?"

"…Is it?"

"Whaa?"

"…Named after me?" The image that flashed across Yuffie's mind upon hearing those words nearly caused her head to implode under the sheer strain. More tea drenched the fire (fortunately a Fire materia was fueling it, so it burned on regardless).

"HAHAHA, I fuckin' doubt it!" Again, not having to remove his tea had him being the first one willing and able to respond. At which point Yuffie began cursing silently – she should've snuck away or something instead of being stuck here while Vinnie had Valentine's Day explained to him. She had _better_ not be blushing…! "It's all about romance!"

Aerith tore her eyes away from Chocobo-head (whose eyes were glued without conscious impetus onto Tifa's tea-soaked tank-top – _yeah, I __**knew**__ he was a titty-man…_) to answer the gunslinger's question. "That's right, Vincent." The flower-girl gave him a gentle, kind smile, her previous annoyance on Yuffie's behalf completely forgotten. She always did forgive too quickly – she'd probably even forgive Yuffie after she stole all her materia later… "You see, if you like someone then you give them a present." She fell silent a moment, then remembered who she was trying to explain Valentine's day to. "If you like them _romantically_." Her cheeks tightened for a moment, her light-green eyes flashing over at Yuffie for the merest fraction of a second before settling back on Cloud, who was STILL drooling over Boobs' conspicuously silhouetted areolae. Well, he was until Aerith rapped her knuckles on the top of his head; the airheaded fool twitched and remembered to try to wipe off the lukewarm tea he was still wearing.

The robotic plushie mimed scratching its nonexistent chin, its high-pitched, weirdly-accented voice braying across the clearing. "Usually it's flowers or chocolates, maybe a wee pretty bit'o joool'ry if you really like 'em. O'Course out here, it'll prob'ly just be flowers…" Aerith perked up a little at this, remembering she possessed something of an advantage there.

Meanwhile, Cloud's brain returned from whatever pink reality of fluffy consistency it had just visited. "…Red? You didn't know about Valentine's Day?"

"Yeah, Cosmo Canyon's people hate that Shinra holiday shit…" Barret finally pulled his head out of his ass for long enough to add something to the conversation.

"Wait, what?" Tifa stared at him. "It's a Shinra holiday?"

"Yeah. I remember when I was fifteen, they said there was gonna be this new holiday…" He raised his cup, grimacing when he realised it was empty. "Some Shinra hotshot, lookin' fo' some good P.R., I bet." A reminiscent look seeped into his eyes for a moment. "I 'member Myrna givin' me a flower…"

The choiral strains of, "Awwwwwww…" hovered over the clearing, issued from three throats. (Yuffie's was _not_ one of them, the ninja wouldn't be caught dead sighing over _Barret_ of all people – for some unknown and probably really _creepy_ reason, Cait Sith had joined the other women in their sugary-sweet tandem utterance.) Yuffie remembered, _again_, to maintain her glare.

"…Twenty-two years ago… …_Shinra_…" Vincent was staring into the fire, which perhaps accounted for why his crimson eyes seemed to be glowing. "Why…'Valentine'?"

For a long moment, no-one had any answers – Yuffie guessed, because no-one actually knew. _She_ sure as hell didn't…

Then Aerith mused, "You know…I think Tseng told me an old story once… I think it was some love triangle," she blushed faintly, "and something went wrong?… where are you going?"

Vincent was walking away! All _that_, and he was just walking away! That ungrateful _bastard_! She tripped over some obnoxiously obstructionist object lying in her path, only her super awesome ninja reflexes saving her from an embarrassing fall in front of the others… "…I wouldn't do that, Yuffie."

Said _kunoichi_ whirled round to snarl at Red XIII, the aforementioned obstruction…which was actually kinda counterproductive, now that she thought of it. (After all, it's so much more _impressive_ when you actually have a mouth full of sharp-as fangs to show off…) Maybe she'd pinch his harness too, just for tripping her up like that… "What? Why the hell not?"

Red didn't have to answer. A gutteral bass roar blasted on and on and _on_ across the clearing, hammering a jarring stacatto up and down her spine, cutting off all chance or trace conversation like…like… Well, like Vincent Valentine's resident inner demon going utterly batshit, that's what it was like. In the end, it didn't so much _stop_ as fade out of range; her quivering spine ignored that fact and went right on vibrating.

For some reason, Aerith's eyes were damp. "A beautiful woman, her cruel husband, and her lover. The husband found out…and murdered the lover…"

That put a damper on the evening, to put it mildly. The men looked grim, the women got a little teary, the moogle shut itself off, the…whatever Red was…sighed with pity. Everyone was suddenly miserable – everyone who was not Yuffie. (She refused, she utterly _refused_ to feel sorry for him, even after her head recovered from the long-delayed implosion caused by the mindboggling revelation that Valentine's Day really, really _WAS_ named after the guy who'd been moping nonstop in their company for the past several weeks. She _did_, however, retain a healthy regard for her own skin, which was why she let Vincent Valentine off the hook, just this _once_, and decided to stop following him around.) Oh well… If the Single White Rose of Wutai wished to carry through with her plan and thus uphold her honour as a super awesome ninja princess, she should probably go straight to bed.

After all, one had to get up _really_ early in the morning to catch Vincent 'I-have-a-romantic-holiday-named-after-me' Valentine asleep.

In the meantime, though… Vincent's supper was sitting there next to the fire, still warm and probably only slightly flavoured by green tea, and— "I wouldn't do that, Yuffie."

"Huh?" What did Red want _now?_

Tifa suddenly blushed. "Oh! Right…" The busty brunette scooped up the bowl, flinging its contents into a convenient bush. "I kinda…slipped an emetic in that one…"

o—ox-oxo-xo—o

Vincent's eyes gradually drifted open, puzzling muzzily upon the new subject of their owner's current location. It was immediately established that he was in an enclosed space of some sort; beyond that, it took a little while before everything flooded back.

...For some reason, the sudden deluge of memories completely failed to produce such a surfeit of rage as the actual events had generated last night. And he knew, he _knew_ that he should be very, _very_ angry. (After all, was it not horribly apparent that the very scientist who had gunned him down like a petulant, cruel child had then gone on to instigate a _holiday_ to commemorate the date of his victory?) Why wasn't he foaming at the mouth right now?

_**(…Ate it…)**_

The gunslinger sat bolt upright, dimly registering by sheer force of habit that he was in his bedroll in the men's tent and the others were tucked away in their own bedding and beginning to stir. _What the…_

This time, Galian's response was more in line with the gunslinger's previous experience - a simple yet eloquent grunt. Vincent could only concede, he supposed, that it made a kind of sense. The demon had always become calmer after being brought forth, and _he_ had always become calmer after it reliquished control and retreated back into the depths of his mind. Who was to say that a parasitic demon couldn't feed on anger if it wished – or actually bring itself to the fore - such as it had last night, giving him barely enough time to apply some prudent distance between himself and the people whose incidental deaths would prove most inconvenient when attempting to kill Hojo) if the prospect of such a banquet was on offer? He resolved to redouble the control held over his emotions – and also to release those shackles every so often when the situation allowed it, so as to enjoy this blissful calm feeling when he woke up. (Galian relaxed again upon receipt of the latter caveat, thus allowing him to drift back into what was quite likely the closest he would feel to contentment before his penance was finally served.)

Strange: his cloak seemed to be absent for some reason… If Galian had lost it somewhere, it would be a major inconvenience. (After all, not just _any_ item of wraparound material could magically absorb gallons of blood and various other formerly-inner assortments when he returned to human form…well, probably. He'd never actually tried it with another cloak.) But Galian's growled response was adamant – wherever it was, _he_ hadn't lost it. In which case (a quick visual check confirmed that it wasn't just littering the floor), it had been stripped from him after Galian brought his body back and sent his body into the best night's sleep he'd had in weeks.

_…Yuffie._ _Yes_, who else would do something so purely vindictive as to steal his cloak while he slept? _Yes_, who else had such a right to hold such a grudge against him? _Yes_, who else would leave that astringent, strangely tantalizing 'so-do-I-jump-your-bones-or-just-kill-you' smell still lingering in the air?…

She'd stolen his damned cape!

Probably he should be foaming at the mouth right now… Why was Galian laughing _again?_

* * *

A/N: …Well. That turned out a little more angsty than I'd expected… But no worries – the next one'll be the really funny bit.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: All right… Given that this is the last chapter, I'll repeat: Final Fantasy VII is the property of Squaresoft / Square Enix. Which is not me. (In fact, I haven't even got around to actually playing the original damn game yet…just in case you hadn't realised.)

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Junk**

Yuffie Kisaragi was feeling…well, she wouldn't admit it, not even under torture (besides, being a super awesome ninja, she'd never admit to _anything_ under torture). But she was still feeling the teensiest bit nervous.

After all, she'd just stolen the Vampire's Cape. Possibly she should have hidden it somewhere by that point, but since when did a chance like this come along? Tattered and smelling like it had been dyed in a vat of blood it might be, but _damn_ was it warm… Someone who wasn't a _kunoichi_ would have shrunk back further into the branches upon espying the distinctly…_visible_ Vincent Valentine stepping out of the men's tent. But the Single White Rose of Wutai wasn't so amateurish as to leave bits of eye-catching crimson fabric to flap around and draw his unwholesomely sharp crimson eye to her distant form which was hidden well enough already.

Metallic accoutrements flashing gold in the false-dawn's faint illumination, Vincent turned towards the women's tent, gently tapping a gauntlet-clad claw a few times against the tent's dangling zip in the tent-ly equivalent of knocking. She would've done a little victory dance if she wasn't trying so hard not to move; she had been _right_ not to stash the cape first. Of course, now that he'd stuck his head inside, the ninja was free to hop down off her branch and circle round to deposit his cloak with the rest of her stuff once he'd gone. That'd vex him good…

—ox-oxo-xo—

Vincent Valentine's earlier sense of relaxation still lingered, a little. Mostly, however, he just felt cold.

As he had suspected, Yuffie was absent from her tent. Also as he had suspected, Aerith and Tifa had not been of much help. They had been sympathetic if a little muzzy with sleep, and the flower-merchant had been kind enough to rummage in a half-hearted fashion through the ninja's bedding, though she was reluctant to go through the rest of her stuff. He had apologised for the intrusion, and they had promised to let him know if they found it.

They must have been only half-awake (or just suffering from low-grade intellectual disabilities, a possibility which could not in all good conscience be discounted), to forget the acuity of his hearing. Tuning out the breathy tinkling sound of their poorly muffled giggles, the gunslinger stretched and took a deep breath. He would have to do this the other way.

Ninja princesses, as a rule, tended not to leave obvious traces to follow. But that tantalising scent lingered, faint but still sharp enough to give him a starting point.

_Tantalising…?_ This time, Vincent couldn't help but suspect that he _knew_ why Galian was laughing this time.

—ox-oxo-xo—

Much as they might have wished to, Aerith and Tifa just couldn't get back to sleep. It wasn't that they didn't try (after all, it really was pretty cold). But Yuffie's not-quite-silent enough entrance – brief as it was, just long enough to stash away Vincent's cape and flee – rendered the prospect of any further slumber a lost cause.

Yuffie…and Vincent? The prospect was not one they cared to dwell on…_especially_ not with their eyes closed.

"…So…"

"…Yeah…"

Though neither of them would admit it, it _did_ irk them ever-so-slightly (after the frantic mental purging had run its required course) that _Yuffie_ of all people was more likely to net a Valentine than they were – even if she _had_ cheated and stolen her 'gift' instead of waiting for him to give her one… At which point something rather mischievous occurred to Aerith. After all, she quite liked the AVALANCE ex-bartender, and had actually been more than a little puzzled for a while now as to why they were spending their time bickering over something so...juvenile.

"…I suppose we should find Vincent…" Tifa yawned, "…give him his cloak back." Obviously it hadn't occurred to the still-not-quite-awake Tifa yet. "Though…" Her eyes snapped all the way open. "Was it just me, or did Vincent seem…"

"…You're right… he wasn't that angry, now that you mention it." A realisation which necessitated another brief bout of mind-purging. "But leave the cloak. I just had an idea…"

Tifa shot her a sidelong glance. "…What are you thinking…?"

"I'm actually thinking Yuffie might be onto something…" She started to rummage around in her bags. "I mean, it's not like Cloud will actually _pick_ one of us as a Valentine…" Tifa was reluctantly forced to agree with that sentiment. He really could be an idiot sometimes… "So I'm thinking…aha!" Finding what she was after, Aerith brandished the faintly glowing sphere.

"Is that…?" The former bartender's lips stretched, pearly-white teeth glimmering evilly in the Seal materia's light.

"Let's take a page out of Yuffie's book, shall we?"

—ox-oxo-xo—

"AHHHHHHHH!" A distant high-pitched scream, echoing across the wooded landscape with a force born of complete and utter terror, caused Vincent Valentine to freeze in place for a moment. Could there be some sort of emergency back at the camp…? But no, the semi-hysterical peals of laughter which followed would seem to discount that. In a turn of good fortune, Yuffie's hearing did not seem to be acute enough to have heard the laughter, given that the gunslinger immediately thereafter glimpsed her haring off towards the campsite's general direction, thus allowing him to pinpoint her position.

Being a sixteen-year-old ninja, her speed and energy levels were rather impressive. If she had not stopped to mutter and complain over the false alarm, Vincent would not have been able to catch up to her. Vincent stepped into position directly behind the preoccupied _kunoichi_ as silently as he knew how, grounding a gloved digit's rounded end into position against an eardrum in a pre-emptive effort to preserve at least _one_ of his ears.

"…Yuffie."

The aforementioned ninja spun in place, emitting a choked-off squeak in most un-ninja-ly fashion. _That could have been worse_, he reflected, removing his finger from the aforementioned orifice. (_Silence, Galian…_) Of course, she was not the sort to stay on the defensive for long… "H-Hi Vinnie! What're you doing out here? Wow, I can see your face! Where's your cape? And why d'you wear that thing anyway? 'cause it's not like your face is all THAT hideous…" At which point the Wutain princess's brain seemed to realise what its mouth was about to say, subsequently exerting control for long enough to shut it down before it dropped her in any deeper. It was a pity she couldn't control the way her unique scent spiked in its intensity. How could she remain so oblivious to its seemingly omnipresent existence? (_I said SILENCE, Galian!_)

"…Where is it, Yuffie?"

"Where's what Vince? What'cha looking for? Your cape? It's your cape isn't it?" He narrowed his eyes at her, remembering too late that the efficacy of that otherwise reliable technique would likely be decreased by the inconvenient visibility of the lower half of his visage. And indeed, it seemed to embolden her. "Well, what makes you think _I_ know where your cape is, huh? It's not like _I_ stole it when you were asleep and hid it, nyuk-nyuk-nyuk…"

"I need that cloak, Yuffie…" Perhaps if some judicious measure of intimidation were to be applied…? Although it would probably be unwise to use his sidearm, given that she'd brought her shuriken along and he had better things to do with his time than fight her – for instance, he could be finding his damned cloak! …At which point it occurred to the gunslinger that his body had leaned over her of its own volition, dwarfing the diminutive ninja with his superior height; he decided to remain there, given that it clearly made her more nervous. (Of course it made _him_ a little nervous…but after all, he really _did_ need that cloak.)

"So…so what if I DID steal your stupid cape?" Ah, he was making some progress… "Why would ya NEED that thing anyway! It's smelly and raggedy and dirty and all it does is hide your face so you can pull faces at everybody!" He made the mistake of blinking at the apparent non-sequitur, thus encouraging her in her belief that she was onto a winner. "Well, no more face-pulling for YOU! 'Cause you're never getting it back, not even if you give me all your materia!" Then she appeared to reconsider. "Well, maybe if you DO give me all your materia…" And then a strange and horrifying thing happened: the increasingly impatient gunslinger quite distinctly heard her mutter, "…And a Valentine's Day present…"

_Valentine's Day…__**Valentine's Day…!**_

Later, Vincent Valentine could not for the life of him have predicted what might have happened had the Galian Beast not intervened. Almost uniquely in this case, however, Galian disdained to intervene by its usual method of twisting its host's form and proceeding to tear the object of his vexation to tiny chunks (though as utterly furious as he was at that point, he would by far have preferred to perform said carnage _himself_). No, instead it proceeded to unveil a whole new way of communicating with its host.

Correction: _his_ host.

When that..._**mindboggling**_ mental image faded, it was beyond him even to wonder where his impendent killing rage had gone to. No, all he could do was thank everything sacred that his facial expression hadn't even twitched.

"…Uh, Vince…?" All right, he _might_ have twitched. The ninja had somehow backed her way right into a tree.

Well, all the better. There was no way in all the depths of hell that Vincent Valentine would let _this_ opportunity go begging. Whatever the embarrassment, whatever the loss of dignity, he would _not_ allow himself to add such a regret to his burdens through simple inaction.

"I beg to differ, Yuffie. You _will_ return my cloak." Her mouth opened, presumably to continue her babbling rant; he cut her off (not without some effort) by commanding his facial muscles to perform a mischievous smirk. Her jaw dropped in a most satisfying manner. "Because, Yuffie, there is a _very_ good reason for wearing that cloak. Would you like to know what it is?"

"Uhhh…"

_Don't hurt any of them, Galian…_

_**…Done…**_

Well, if he was going to do it, then now was the time. Letting that smirk widen a stretch, Vincent stepped out of the way and let Galian do his thing.

—ox-oxo-xo—

_Aw crapcrapcrapCRAP! He's going Galian on me! I'm gonna DIE…!_ Of course, being the super awesome ninja princess of Wutai who never _ever_ cowered with terror – EVER! – she bounded away from the tree and brought her trusty shuriken to hand, ready to go down fighting.

Blazing crimson eyes stared pitilessly into her own, mounted over a set of fangs which put Red's to shame. _…Why isn't he trying to kill me?_ Not that she was complaining, far from it. (After all… well, who'd _want_ to be torn into itty-bitty pieces by a big ugly demon?) Why was it just _standing there_, looking at her? Was it something to do with Vincent's so-called 'reason' why he had to have his stinking cape back? Or was it—

Then it occurred to her that Galian looked…_different_, somehow.

She tore her gaze away from the demon's, trying to work out what that difference was. That gaze didn't have far to go: only, in fact, about a metre or so, directly downwards.

"Oh…my…gawd…"

Yup. As far as so-called 'reasons' went, that was a pretty damn good one. The demon shifted its taloned feet, causing the luridly coloured object which she simply couldn't tear her popping eyes away from to sway lazily against the inner side of its knee.

Correction: _his_ knee. His _knee_, for gawdsake!

She couldn't work out, even later, how long she had been standing there, frozen like a wild chocobo in the headlights with her gaze helplessly locked on the single most terrifying thing she had ever laid eyes on in _her entire life_… but it must have been a good long while, because Galian eventually got bored. It proceeded to deal with said boredom by jumping in place.

_Thwock. Thwock. Thwock._

"AHHHHHHHH!"

Super awesome ninja she might be, but there were some things even the great Wutai Ninja Princess Yuffie Kisaragi would shamelessly scream like a girl and run the hell away from. Now, if only she could get back to camp and find that DAMN cape before Galian caught up and decided to _rape_ her to death…

Behind her rapidly retreating form, Galian's demonically low-pitched _hurr-hurr-hurr_ ripped through the forest. All things being equal, he'd still prefer to just go and kill something – but, he decided, this was almost as amusing. (And after all, just because he was a demonic entity didn't mean he _wanted_ his junk _thwock_ing about in the middle of a fight…)

—ox-oxo-xo—

It was a distinctly strange feeling which pervaded that particular morning's campsite for our heroes.

There were several reasons for this. In addition to last night's revelations connecting the laconic gunslinger's mysterious past with the holiday so tragically named after him (because after all, they were not _entirely_ stupid, and could connect the dots after being given enough hints), there was the puzzling and worrying absence of not only Vincent but also the teenage ninja Yuffie. What could they be doing? especially considering the Vampire's outburst last night? Was Yuffie all right? (And, when it got right down to it, how much did they really care?) In addition, there was the fact that it _was_ Valentine's Day – which meant that Barret was still thinking about his long-passed wife, Cid found his mind lingering for some reason upon the person of that annoying technician-broad, Nanaki occasionally wondered if he would ever find a mate to share his life with, Tifa and Aerith were still the tiniest bit disappointed that Cloud hadn't willingly come up with a Valentine present, and Cloud…

It must be said that, as factors went when attempting to analyse the complex mood around that campfire, Cloud was a decidedly major factor. After all, it can be extremely difficult to mope in peace when the party's leader is sitting right there in plain sight, attempting _via_ sheer force of will to somehow convince the rest of reality that he is _not_ wearing a silk dress…and a blonde wig…and a rather fetching diamond tiara…

Cloud sighed, abandoning his attempted pretence in favour of filling his mouth with Aerith's salad. The longer it took for him to eat his breakfast, after all, the longer it would take for Tifa and Aerith to give him his clothes back. It was not as if he didn't know exactly what had caused them to pull their little prank; he'd known Valentine's Day was coming for a long while, but he dared not countenance the thought of causing such dissent among the party as choosing a Valentine would likely have unleashed. Better for them to think him an idiot, even if it _had_ resulted in this decidedly embarrassing situation. And there was a silver lining to this cloud – Aerith had explained that as they knew he wasn't going to give them anything, they'd gone ahead and _taken_ it instead; their 'presents' to _him_ would take the form of his clothes being returned to him after he finished his breakfast. Thus the whole problem had been avoided, all thanks to the piddling sacrifice of whatever dignity he had left.

At least, he reflected, they had let him keep his boxers…

"AHHHHHHHH!" A distant high-pitched scream, echoing out across the campsite, had the party bounding to their feet and diving for weapons. As the screams continued, approaching ever closer, Cloud bizarrely found himself hoping for a moment that the coming battle wouldn't ruin his silk dress…

As it turned out, it _wasn't_ a battle. No, it was a shrieking, panting, red-faced Yuffie Kisaragi, sprinting full-bore for the women's tent. Followed by a bounding, snuffling, bizarrely _carefree_ Galian Beast—

Which stopped. And turned to regard Cloud, its blazing orbs darting up and down as it took in the swordsman's…singular attire. And then pointed a wickedly pointed talon at him… and started roaring with laughter, bouncing up and down with maniacal glee.

"HARR-HARR—_thwock_—HA-HARR-HARR—_thwock_—HARR-HA-HARR…"

Perhaps Galian had expected the others to laugh along with it. Or perhaps it had just noticed what everybody was looking at. In either case, it – ahem, _he_ – stopped laughing, staring at his host's gaping comrades. In the spirit of inquiry, the demon assayed one more jump.

_Thwock._

"AHHHHHHHH!" Tifa and Aerith went streaking off for the women's tent. Cait Sith fell over laughing. For some reason, Barret slipped Cid…a fifty-gil note…? And Red… Actually, Red undertook what was probably the most intelligent action that was possible at that particular moment. He strolled over to the women's tent and thrust his leonine head inside for a few moments; when he withdrew, Vincent's cape was dangling from his jaws. The furry genius trotted back to the campfire, depositing the garment at Galian's feet before returning to his interrupted breakfast.

Galian glanced over at the women's tent, indulging in one more snort of amusement at the expense of the frightened feminine flowers within. And then he curled in on himself…and Vincent was back, fully clothed except for his cloak, stretching and tilting his head left and right to crack his neck.

He eventually bent down to pick up his cloak, straightening to find seven pairs of eyes regarding him with… well, _whatever_ they were regarding the gunslinger with, he somehow succeeded despite the complete lack of facial movement to convey the impression that he found it immensely satisfying to bear witness. His crimson gaze, glinting with a most atypical mirth in the light of dawn, drifted over to rest on the women's tent. Specifically, on the lowest set of three pairs of bulging eyes, peeking from between the tent-flaps.

"…And _that_, Yuffie, is why I wear this 'stupid cape'." Shaking out the aforementioned stupid item of apparel, he glanced over at the party leader. "Nice outfit, by the way." And clad once more in that blessed, _blessed_ cape, he sat down and helped himself to some salad as if he'd had absolutely nothing at all to do with that forearm-sized, purple-and-blue spiky demon-schlong that had just been waving around less than a minute ago.

Then again, it occurred to Cloud, maybe Vincent _hadn't_. You never knew, when it came to a guy who was possessed by a demon…

—ox-oxo-xo—

Vincent Valentine had not been present during Galian's most recent visitation. He never was. But Galian had been quite glad to communicate the results. Perhaps it was this that accounted for the smirk that seemed permanently fixed upon his face for the rest of the morning. (He _did_, however, take care to keep it concealed from the others of his party, at least inasmuch as possible. Their inadequate minds had probably suffered enough stress lately.) Then again, Cloud's outfit had fit in a disturbingly well-tailored fashion, a fact which certainly held its own prospects for amusement.

If _this_ was his mindborne resident's idea of humour, he conceded, he guessed he could put up with him. (Needless to say, both he and Galian were deeply disappointed the _next_ day, when Death Gigas made its first appearance…)

And best of all, no-one was laughing at him.

By the time they made camp that night, the Galian gift of contentment and good cheer had largely drained away, leaving him – more or less – sunk back in his habitual moody musings. He _had_, however, taken advantage of his earlier, more positive state of affairs to dwell for a few moments on the impending problem of the Wutain _kunoichi_. Late in the afternoon, they had come across a path leading up into the mountains and on toward her homeland…which meant that someday quite soon, the thieving ninja princess was extremely likely to disappear with as much materia as she could possibly filch.

That problem was dealt with _via_ the simple expedient of passing her a Barrier materia which was perhaps halfway to being mastered. "…Happy Valentine's Day, Yuffie." At which point she flung her arms around him and kissed his cheek while he attempted not to breathe in that damn aroused scent of hers.

More to the point: a few days later, after cresting the mountain, when Yuffie finally got around to legging it with all their materia as he had predicted, he was one of the few members of the party who didn't lose anything _else_…

* * *

A/N: _Aaaaand DONE._ My first ever FFVII fic, finished. (At least, until I go back and fix all those imperfections that have started to bug me...)

Gotta say, I'm not all that happy with the ending…but I do need to sleep at _some_ point tonight. Anyway… apologies for any OOC/non-canon/other problems (apart of course from the ones I intended). And, as I mentioned after the first chapter, reviews and/or con-crits would be highly appreciated. (And thanks to 'Fetherhd', who's been nice enough to drop me a couple - hope this last effort doesn't disappoint.)

Cheers! and enjoy your Valentine's Day/hope you enjoyed your Valentine's Day (depending on your timezone - for instance, _my_ Valentine's Day ended just now...)

P.S. Any complaints regarding Galian-cocks and their presence in the readers' dreams will be thoroughly laughed at.


End file.
